Lydia Nobles on Art, Activism, and Body Autonomy
Lydia Nobles, Relationships #5, 2015. Courtesy of the artist.
During a summer in Venice, Italy, in 2022, I was immersed in the emotional depth of Paula Rego's Abortion series at Victoria Miro Gallery. It was a profound moment for me, particularly as I learned of the Supreme Court’s decision to overturn Roe v. Wade in the very same week. As with other modern tragedies, it was a moment in history that I will never forget. We can ask one another, “Do you remember where you were when…”—the towering pillars of our Supreme Court fell—or dare I say, “began to fall?”
As a woman and curator, the stark juxtaposition reignited a sense of urgency within me about the responsibilities we hold, regardless of gender identity, career, or political affiliation, to advocate for the hard-won rights of our “foremothers,” including not least of all body autonomy which can amount to one’s own dignity and literal survival. About 66% of the voting-eligible population turned out for the 2020 Election, the highest rate for any national election since 1900, according to Pew Research Center, and time will soon tell whether we’re on an upward trend in continuing our country’s mission toward freedom and self-determination. To vote is a vital act of citizenry, and so is making one’s voice heard in conversations where one can make a productive impact on social issues, in any case.
In the run-up to the 2024 Presidential Election, with loads of discourse surrounding reproductive rights in the United States, artist Lydia Nobles brings a poignant voice to the conversation through her work. Her art serves as a catalyst for dialogue, confronting societal constructs around gender and sexuality while fostering empathy through her series As I Sit Waiting. The ongoing project reflects the complexities of personal and collective experiences with abortion, underscoring the need for diverse narratives in this critical discourse.
In our interview, Nobles shares her insights on the intersection between art and activism, emphasizing how artists can shape narratives that uplift women’s voices. She discusses her journey, inspirations, and the transformative power of art in the fight for reproductive justice.
Installation image of In The Waiting Room, Lydia Nobles’ solo booth with KAPOW at SPRING/BREAK Art Fair. Photo courtesy of Samuel Morgan.
Natasha Roberts: Tell us about your background and what inspired you to become an artist.
Lydia Nobles: I’m binge-watching The Glory right now (yes, I obsess slightly over K-dramas). It’s the story of Moon Dong-eun, a young woman who enacts revenge against her high school bullies. It reminded me how much my journey has been shaped by those who tried to tear me down. I remember being just fourteen, sitting alone on the bus, already struggling with my sense of self, when I suddenly heard a whisper: “I think she’s slept with like 30 guys.” It’s a moment that stays with me—a painful reminder of how words can seep into your bones, making you feel small and uncomfortable in your own skin. This went on for four years.
When it started at 14, I didn’t realize it, but I was still a child. Society often expects young people to navigate complex situations as though they're adults, especially when it comes to sexuality. We’re sexualized and held to standards that do not match our age or experience. It’s an incredibly difficult place to be, and I hope that through my work and these conversations, I can help people understand that their sexual identity—no matter how they came to it—is valid, normal, and deserving of acceptance.
On dates, men often ask me how many people I’ve slept with, and I never answer that question—a subtle rebellion. Value comes from within; reaching a place where that felt real, and felt like I could own that, took a lot of self-reflection and mindset work. Every day, I consider my body, my identity, and my performance as ways that will either uphold or underpin patriarchal systems.
The first sculpture I made was a model of the Colosseum back in middle school. I find this fascinating, as the Colosseum is a place where masculinity thrived and dominance was celebrated. Gender and sexuality underpin all my work.
High school bullies didn’t inspire me to become an artist, but their thoughtless cruelty fueled my love and passion for uplifting people through a lens of gender and sexuality studies. In the studio, I ask myself: How do my materials inform my concept? How do the shapes, sizes, and colors interact? What are they saying to me, and what will they say to you? And most importantly, am I feeling something from the work?
Portrait of Lydia Nobles at her solo exhibition, Body Lies, at KAPOW in 2024. Courtesy of the artist.
NR: What mediums do you work in?
LN: The first medium I comprehensively learned was fiber art, specifically wool felt, with artist Sandy Spiller. Ironically, I haven’t used it in 10 years—maybe because I’m from Maine and am over all things cold. More importantly, Spiller taught me how to be my own boss.
I’m really big into ideas and how to quickly gesture them out. At Moore College of Art and Design, we had access to photography equipment. I quickly learned that photography and film were effective ways to make a statement. I’m inspired by artists like Deana Lawson, Adrian Piper, and Sally Mann. I’ve immersed myself in metals, and I have started combining the gestures of my body or a model’s with my sculptures. I then would take photographs or videos of those interactions and make that the final piece. I was looking a lot at Rebecca Horn, Janine Antoni, and Carolee Schneemann.
I paired my MFA at Parsons School of Art and Design with a Gender and Sexuality Studies certificate from The New School. There, I learned to move beyond autobiography and focus on creating multiple points of entry into my work. I also developed a fascination with unconventional materials like rubber, plexiglass, and polyurethane, thanks in part to internships—including one with Broadway puppet designer Amanda Villalobos.
This past spring, I pushed my limits even further, taking classes at UrbanGlass, where I produced nine new works in just 30 days, culminating in a solo exhibition at KAPOW Gallery. Seven of the pieces incorporated kiln-cast glass. I do really well under pressure.
Lydia Nobles, Freeze Thrust, 2024, on view at Pratt’s Steuben Gallery. Courtesy of the artist.
NR: What led you to become an artistic biographer of women and non-binary folks?
LN: First, I just want to say thank you for thinking of my work that way. I don’t think of myself as a biographer, yet it makes sense.
In 2018, I had an abortion, and I was very anxious and uncomfortable in the waiting room. What brought me comfort was thinking about the other people there and imagining their stories and what we might have in common and what we might not. I was deeply curious about their experiences and wanted to know more. In 2019, I made Lydia the first in my series titled As I Sit Waiting.
Later on, I listened to a TED talk by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, The Danger of a Single Story, which had a profound impact on me. My experience wasn’t the only narrative for those who have needed an abortion. I kept thinking back to that waiting room—what if it could be filled with sculptures, each one honoring a unique story and individual? The idea felt powerful, deeply moving, and necessary. As I Sit Waiting now covers individual abortion stories from 12 states, from one person’s 1976 abortion to someone who recently had an abortion.
Lydia Nobles, Lymariz, 2022. Acquired by Planned Parenthood of Southwest Ohio, now on view in the PP Cincinnati clinic waiting room.
NR: Where were you when Roe v. Wade was overturned in 2022?
LN: I was coming off a wonderful moment of showing two of my sculptures, Cat and DeZ’ah, at LatchKey Gallery just two days prior. I mean, we had heard about the Supreme Court leak… We all knew it was coming, even though it felt surreal. I had to contend with my own complacency in allowing it to happen. Before I had an abortion, I never really thought much about abortion. I have learned so much since I started As I Sit Waiting, and I have a deep respect for the many folks who make abortion a possible healthcare option. They knew it was coming. Why didn’t we? I sit with that. Angélique Kidjo spoke about the Western world and that we take our freedom for granted–we are comfortable and silent, and yet our freedom can be taken away from us in a heartbeat. She goes on to say, “When freedom is in danger anywhere, we all, as citizens of this world, should not be silent because it will come back and bite us.” It’s important to realize that we are a part of what Kidjo was explaining. Realize it, contend with it, and now, what are we going to do about it? VOTE. Make Art. Write. Shout. Protest.
I have had the full spectrum of emotions since I began this work in 2019. A New York Times article, “After Decades of Silence, Art About Abortion (Cautiously) Enters the Establishment” by Deborah Soloman, came out about the lack of support for abortion-related shows, work, and collection acquisitions. Reading it made me furious, and I know many other artists focused on reproductive advocacy felt the same way. What I’ve come to realize though is that there are curators, writers and institutions championing this work, like you, Natasha Roberts, and many others: Brian Boucher, Caroline Lillian Schopp, The Brooklyn Museum, Emily Edwards, Sara Hignite, Planned Parenthood, Rochester Contemporary Art Center, Kourosh Mahboubian (KAPOW), Annabel Keenan, All Street Gallery, Katrina Majkut, Kris Racaniello and Jacob Rhodes, Pink Noise Projects, Jasmine Wahi, Ulysses Williams, Destinee Ross-Sutton… I could keep going, and to say that feels wonderful.
NR: Do you feel optimistic about the future for women? What are your aspirations?
LN: I feel optimistic. We’re seeing more coverage of violence against women in the news, and while some think that means it’s happening more often, I believe it’s because we’re finally starting to pay attention. People are listening, the media is recognizing that women’s stories matter, and it’s about damn time!
I will be working at my practice, thinking bigger, and challenging my work to new heights. My best work is still ahead of me, and it feels exhilarating to say that. I’m currently focused on creating smaller works that explore the body, alongside a mirror series dedicated to honoring those who lost their lives while seeking abortion care.
I’ll also be continuing my series As I Sit Waiting, focusing on those who faced roadblocks due to the current abortion bans, with the aim to organize a comprehensive museum exhibition.
Lydia Nobles, Urvi, 2022. Courtesy of the artist.
NR: Please share three artists and/or artworks you find inspiring and want to spotlight.
LN: Lex Marie’s work is in the exhibition, Is It Real? in Dallas, Texas, alongside my sculpture DeZ’ah, and the work of many other artists. Marie’s work, Deconstructed Black Maternal Health Flag, poignantly addresses the Black maternal healthcare crisis in America. I am constantly inspired by her work and am especially drawn to her sculptures focusing on school shootings. Marie’s work is impressive because she is truly conceptual, using readymades compiled together to create the shape of a gun, for instance.
Isabelle Albuquerque’s work, to me, brings a haunting presence into the here and now. The expressive gestures of her figures and the potent symbolism in details like a watch wrapped around an ankle or a figure straddling a broomstick invite the viewer to grapple with themes of sexuality and desire. Her work plays at the psychological underpinnings of stereotypes about women and sexuality. What I find especially fascinating is her use of herself as a model for her molds—she first embodies the gesture, then captures it in a timeless cast, blurring the line between performance and permanence.
Mary Enoch Elizabeth Baxter’s Brooklyn Museum solo exhibition, Ain’t I a Woman, was on view in conjunction with a public programming event, Abortion Stories USA, that included two of my sculptures. Baxter’s film, Ain’t I a Woman, is a powerful work that connects her carceral experience of giving birth while in shackles to the broader fight for Black reproductive rights. Her film delves into the deeper, nuanced fight for Black women and their human rights. This work is extremely brave, moving, and necessary.
NR: Thank you. Lastly, where can we see your work and keep up with you?
LN: My sculpture Temperance is currently featured in the exhibition Unapologetic WomXn, curated by Destinee Ross-Sutton at the European Cultural Center in Venice, Italy, until November 24th, 2024.
I'm also excited to announce the inaugural 2025 BolsterArts Residency, a project designed to provide meaningful, direct support to artists. Two selected artists will have the opportunity to fully immerse themselves in their practice for three and a half months, culminating in a two-person exhibition at All Street Gallery in the East Village. This residency prioritizes the importance of longer, more sustained support that not only offers time and space but also guarantees a platform for artists to showcase their work while alleviating the financial pressures of studio costs. Applications are open now until November 15th, with selections made by an incredible jury: Aida Valdez, founder of MAD 54; scholar and curator Dr. Margarita Rosa; and Dejá Belardo, artist and Associate Curator at The Shed. Visit the website to apply.
Please keep up with me on Instagram @lydianobles and send me a message to schedule a studio visit with me in East Harlem!
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
